Last Elvis

The last Elvis in Madison square Billboards sparkle off his liquorice hair Last year's papers blow round his flairs At his cassettes crescendo he kicks at the air No one's clapping, so he whips round his crotch Hearing only an echo saying, "thank you very much" The last Elvis sleeps 'neath the stars Scans the sky for father from his burnt out car Sweet David Beckham the facsimile Curls 'round his shoulder purring "at last we are free" Goodbye to Peckham Rye and Hackney Downs The bridges to my future are burning down Goodbye to summers passed in Highland Park The innocence of summer nights is dead at last The last tradesman in the triangle of gold Clings to his body with the nails of his soul The extensions new but the money's old The plasterers don't come The smoko never ends and the house is never sold Goodbye to Peckham Rye and Hackney Downs The bridges to my future are burning down Goodbye to summers passed in Highland Park The innocence of summer nights is dead at last